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tealinWhen last we saw our heroes, Birdie, Cherry, and Crean had endured a long day of hopping – and dragging laden sledges and tired ponies – from floe to floe after the ice on which they'd pitched their camp had broken up and begun to float out to sea. They made it safely onto the permanent ice of the Barrier (where they met up with Captain Scott and Titus Oates) with most of their supplies, only to watch their three remaining ponies drift inexorably away on a floe of sea ice. There was nothing they could do, and it being 3am by this point, they decided to make camp (well away from the edge of the ice, I might add) and see what the situation brought in the morning. Either the ponies' floe would have come to a stop against the ice of the barrier, or, more likely, they would have drifted out to sea and been gone forever.
I should probably warn those with a delicate constitution that today's events are not particularly pretty. For the rest of us: ONWARD TO ADVENTURE!
That night, Birdie writes, he had a conversation with Captain Scott.
I would just like to take a moment here to say: AWWWWW, BIRDIE! Going out alone for one last check on the ponies after everyone else has gone to bed! D'awwww!
Okay, back to business.
The next morning, after breakfast, Birdie scanned the barrier edge with Scott's binoculars and discovered that the ponies' floe had run up against the Barrier at a point further west. He alerted the others and they hastily moved their camp closer to that spot.
Scott was loath to see a repeat of that grisly mishap so he found an alternate route from that floe to the barrier, a longer way which passed over more sea ice. There was still a jump necessary to get off that floe, though, and when they rushed Nobby at it he faltered several times, but at last cleared it, followed shortly by Uncle Bill (the pony, not the man; he earned his namesake by being the gentlest of the truculent bunch). At this point Scott and Cherry headed back to the Barrier to start digging a path into the face of the Barrier up which the ponies could climb; Titus and Birdie undertook the challenge of getting two exhausted ponies and a couple of empty sledges across forty free-floating ice floes between them and safety. As if that weren't enough, the killer whales reappeared, and seemed to be keeping an eye on the men and beasts. Still, they made it to the edge of the Barrier.
NB: For an idea why the whales might have unsettled the horse, check out this video. Then imagine there are twelve of them. Then imagine you're on an unstable floe at the mercy of the current, struggling to land a pony whose hind legs are dangling in the water, possibly thrashing in a very attention-getting way and certainly doing nothing for your stability.
For those keeping track: of the ponies that made it all the way to One Ton Depot, and which were so important to be saved for the polar trek the following summer, the only one to survive was Nobby. But all the men survived unscathed, as did the supplies necessary for them to live at Hut Point until the bay between there and Cape Evans froze over, allowing them to cross.
Bill later made a rather philosophical entry in his journal about the whole adventure, comparing it to when someone accidentally fires a gun – thank goodness no one was hurt, it could have been very dangerous; everyone will be much more careful in future as a result. I'm sure it was probably written with concern and relief but the 'that'll learn 'em' tone really comes off as Jiminy Cricket ...
I should probably warn those with a delicate constitution that today's events are not particularly pretty. For the rest of us: ONWARD TO ADVENTURE!
That night, Birdie writes, he had a conversation with Captain Scott.
[Scott said] that he had no confidence whatever in the motors after the way their rollers had become messed up unloading the ship. He had had his confidence in the dogs much shaken on the return journey, and now he had lost the most solid asset — the best of his pony transport. He said: 'Of course we shall have a run for our money next season, but as far as the Pole is concerned I have but very little hope.' We had a mournful meal, but after the others turned in I went down again, and by striking across diagonally came abreast of the ponies' floe, over a mile away. They were moving west fast, but they saw me, and remained huddled together not the least disturbed, or doubting that we would bring them their breakfast nosebags as usual in the morning. Poor trustful creatures!
I would just like to take a moment here to say: AWWWWW, BIRDIE! Going out alone for one last check on the ponies after everyone else has gone to bed! D'awwww!
Okay, back to business.
The next morning, after breakfast, Birdie scanned the barrier edge with Scott's binoculars and discovered that the ponies' floe had run up against the Barrier at a point further west. He alerted the others and they hastily moved their camp closer to that spot.
After our recent experience Captain Scott would only let us go on condition that as soon as he gave the order we were to drop everything and run for the Barrier. I was in a feverish hurry, and with Titus and Cherry selected a possible route over about six floes, and some low brash ice. The hardest jump was the first one, but it was nothing to what they had done the day before, so we put Punch at it. Why he hung fire I cannot think,* but he did, at the very edge, and the next moment was in the water. I will draw a veil over our struggle to get the plucky little pony out. We could not manage it, and Titus had at last to put an end to his struggles with a pick.
*Cherry thinks it's because he was stiff from standing for so long.
Scott was loath to see a repeat of that grisly mishap so he found an alternate route from that floe to the barrier, a longer way which passed over more sea ice. There was still a jump necessary to get off that floe, though, and when they rushed Nobby at it he faltered several times, but at last cleared it, followed shortly by Uncle Bill (the pony, not the man; he earned his namesake by being the gentlest of the truculent bunch). At this point Scott and Cherry headed back to the Barrier to start digging a path into the face of the Barrier up which the ponies could climb; Titus and Birdie undertook the challenge of getting two exhausted ponies and a couple of empty sledges across forty free-floating ice floes between them and safety. As if that weren't enough, the killer whales reappeared, and seemed to be keeping an eye on the men and beasts. Still, they made it to the edge of the Barrier.
Nobby cleared the last jump splendidly, when suddenly in the open water pond on one side a school of over a dozen of the terrible whales arose. This must have flurried my horse just as he was jumping, as instead of going straight he jumped [sideways] and just missed the floe with his hind legs. It was another horrible situation, but Scott rushed Nobby up on the Barrier, while Titus, Cherry and I struggled with poor old Uncle Bill.
NB: For an idea why the whales might have unsettled the horse, check out this video. Then imagine there are twelve of them. Then imagine you're on an unstable floe at the mercy of the current, struggling to land a pony whose hind legs are dangling in the water, possibly thrashing in a very attention-getting way and certainly doing nothing for your stability.
Why the whales did not come under the ice and attack him I cannot say—perhaps they were full of seal, perhaps they were so engaged in looking at us on the top of the floe that they forgot to look below; anyhow, we got him safely as far as [the bottom of the Barrier cliff], pulling him through the thin ice towards a low patch of brash.
Captain Scott was afraid of something happening to us with those devilish whales so close, and was for abandoning the horse right away. I had no eyes or ears for anything but the horse just then ... the four of us pulled might and main till we got the old horse out and lying on his side. The brash ice was so thin that, had a 'Killer' come up then he would have scattered it, and the lot of us into the water like chaff. I was sick with disappointment when I found that my horse could not rise. Titus said: 'He's done; we shall never get him up alive.' The cold water and shock on top of all his recent troubles, had been too much for the undefeated old sportsman. In vain I tried to get him to his feet; three times he tried and then fell over backwards into the water again. At that moment a new danger arose. The whole piece of Barrier itself started to subside.
It had evidently been broken before, and the tide was doing the rest. We were ordered up and it certainly was all too necessary; still Titus and I hung over the old Uncle Bill's head. I said: 'I can't leave him to be eaten alive by those whales.' There was a pick lying up on the floe. Titus said: 'I shall be sick if I have to kill another horse like I did the last.' I had no intention that anybody should kill my own horse but myself, and getting the pick I struck where Titus told me. I made sure of my job before we ran up and jumped the opening in the Barrier, carrying a blood-stained pick-axe instead of leading the pony I had almost considered safe.
For those keeping track: of the ponies that made it all the way to One Ton Depot, and which were so important to be saved for the polar trek the following summer, the only one to survive was Nobby. But all the men survived unscathed, as did the supplies necessary for them to live at Hut Point until the bay between there and Cape Evans froze over, allowing them to cross.
Bill later made a rather philosophical entry in his journal about the whole adventure, comparing it to when someone accidentally fires a gun – thank goodness no one was hurt, it could have been very dangerous; everyone will be much more careful in future as a result. I'm sure it was probably written with concern and relief but the 'that'll learn 'em' tone really comes off as Jiminy Cricket ...
